You are like heroin.
No wait, that isn't good.
You are like fine bourbon,
aged in oaken barrel wood.
Well, that isn't good either;
and the fact is, you are neither.
You are the woman that I love,
and not some facsimile thereof.
I wanted to write you a Valentine,
a smoochy, kissy I love you,
but I can't find an apt metaphor
that says it like I want it to.
How does one convey eternity?
Or love that flows beyond measure?
Can it be reduced to trite cliche?
Would chocolate love be your pleasure?
Wait, that last thing could be taken wrong.
What I meant was, I am as sweet as candy.
Oh hell, this love poem is getting sketchy,
and I'm coming off as namby pamby.
Look, it's simple, so I'll just come right out and say it,
your body is like a song, and I really want to play it.
You are the one for whom my heart most yearns,
your love is the axis about which my whole world turns.
Okay, so I admit it, this poem is a complete disaster.
Still, I think you get the gist of what I'm going after.
So how about it? Is it possible that you will be mine?
Will you hold me, and love me, and be my kissy kissy Valentine?
© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012